


Restart

by justdk



Series: Rovinsky Week 2018 [5]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 13:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14379498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justdk/pseuds/justdk
Summary: Kavinsky is back from the dead but his reunion with Ronan is far from sweet





	Restart

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Rovinsky Week 2018, Day 6: Resurrection  
> Playlist: https://8tracks.com/justdk/restart

It’s impossible but it’s happening.

Kavinsky stands outside Monmouth, feet bare, his clothes singed and bloody and dirty. It’s early, the sun just beginning to rise and lending a grey light to the world. He stands beneath Ronan’s window and lobs another stone at the glass. His pulse spikes when he sees Ronan’s silhouette in the window. He wants to yell, scream, cry. He’s not been the same since he’s come back.

“ _K?”_ Ronan’s voice echoes in the empty floor of the warehouse, making him sound like he’s lost underground.

“Yes—” Kavinsky’s voice is too hoarse to carry. He’s not the same. Nothing is the same.

Then Ronan is slamming the door open, emerging from the dark and he looks _terrible_ and _beautiful_ and _perfect_.

“No.” Ronan says, approaching him warily. He sounds _wrecked_. “You’re not real. You’re not here. You’re _not_.”

Kavinsky steps forward, unsteady, exhausted. “I am. I’m real. Ronan—”

“Shut up! Shut up!” Ronan yells at him. His fingers grip his head, digging into the skin like he’s trying to peel his face off. “YOU’RE DEAD!” The words have the impact of a bomb dropped, silence rings in their wake.

“No, Ronan, no.” This is awful.  Kavinsky stumbles another few steps and grabs Ronan’s wrist. “I’m here. I’m alive…”

Ronan freezes, his breath heaving out in harsh gasps. He stares at Kavinsky’s hands and blinks, shakes his head. He’s so pale, his pulse stutters under Kavinsky’s palms. “ _God…._ ” It comes out in an anguished groan. “ _Stop_.”

This isn’t what Kavinsky expected but he feels as powerless as a ghost to communicate with Ronan, to convince him of his resurrection.

“You died!” Ronan chokes. “I saw you. You could have walked away but you didn’t you stupid, selfish fuck! You left me, K!”

“I’m sorry.” Kavinsky’s crying now because Ronan is crying. “I was wrong. But I came back, I’m back, I’ll stay, I’ll try—”

“FUCK YOU!” Ronan slams his clenched fist against Kavinsky’s chest and it _hurts_. “You can’t—” Ronan hits him again and again and he weathers it, soaking in the pain because he did this, he caused this.

“Ronan.” He gets his arms around Ronan’s head, drags him forward, cradles him against his stinging chest. There’s no room for Ronan to move and he _sobs_ , tears soaking into K’s shirt.

“You left me,” Ronan’s voice is garbled and broken. His arms circle Kavinsky’s waist, fingers tugging at his mangled shirt. He’s a heavy weight that drags them both down to the earth.

“I’m sorry,” Kavinsky whispers. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Ronan lays him on his back, kneeling between his legs. “You’re not real…”

“I am. I swear.” Kavinsky takes Ronan’s hands, places them over his beating heart, over his chest, rising and falling with each shallow breath. He wants Ronan’s hands all over him, wants to be baptized in his touch, reborn in his arms.

“No one comes back from the dead,” Ronan says bitterly. He shoves Kavinsky’s shirt up, revealing his gaunt frame, the skin pinked by his abuse; Kavinsky’s looking forward to the bruises that will follow.

“Some Catholic you are,” Kavinsky comments and Ronan looks at him, _really looks at him_ , head cocked to the side, eyebrows scrunched together in thought.

“Fuck,” he breathes. He leans in, covering Kavinsky with his body, and grabs Kavinsky’s chin, tilting his face side to side. “Fuck me…”

Kavinsky doesn’t say a word but his dirty smile clues Ronan in to what he’s thinking.

“You son of bitch,” Ronan swears at him. “How did you do it?”

Kavinsky shrugs. What happened after his death will haunt his dreams for the rest of his life; better Ronan not know the details.

“Do you forgive me?” he asks. He wants to plead, to petition on his knees and back for as long as it takes. Anything, he would do anything.

“No.” Ronan squeezes his wrists hard enough that it hurts. He stretches their arms out to the side and up, his body finally coming to rest over Kavinsky’s, a heavy weight that Ronan does nothing to alleviate. Kavinsky wraps his legs around Ronan and groans when Ronan shifts, lining them up perfectly.

“I won’t forgive you until I know you’re truly sorry,” Ronan says, his lips brushing Kavinsky’s ear, “until I believe that you’ll never do that again.”

“I won’t,” Kavinsky promises. All he can see and feel and smell and hear is Ronan. He forgets to breath when Ronan presses their mouths together, forgets to think. It’s better than he had ever dreamed.

He died for this; he’s never going to leave Ronan again.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr @dkafterdark


End file.
